


Backlash

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Story follows directly after "Musketeers Don't Die Easily", warning for torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: I had promised myself not to work on this until Wanderlust was done but this prompt was up at Elenduen's d'Artagnan whumpage site and I just had to start on it. Here's the link to her site if you ever want to visit it or post your own stories there...http://elenduen.dreamwidth.org/391.htmlAnd of course I wanted this to be a one shot but it may last a few chapters.Our Gascon gets beaten up (nothing graphic) but there is one torture scene where if you are squeamish you may want to close your eyes and pass that part. I don't want to spoil it with telling all of you what it is. Or if you really think it will affect you please don't read the story.++++





	1. Chapter 1

First, here is what was stated for the prompt:

Backlash for the trap that caught Milady and Richelieu. D’Artagnan whump with protective inseparables. Now since Backlash was mentioned in the prompt I’m going to use that as the title for my story. It seemed appropriate.

What if it is not made abundantly clear to the whole Musketeer regiment that the rift between d'Artagnan and the inseparables was just a ruse to trap Milady and Richelieu.

What if after all is said and done a group of recruits hoping to earn their commissions who are already jealous of d'Artagnan for earning his so swiftly and not being a child of nobility decide to seek out retribution on d'Artagnan.

They capture and torture him as punishment for what they believe is his crime against the great inseparables, only when they drag the bloody, beaten, unconscious d'Artagnan into the garrison at muster, expecting to be praised for getting justice on a traitor, they quickly learn just the opposite as the inseparables rush to d'Artagnan fearing for his life and snarling promises of retribution for the recruits actions and Treville orders the arrest of them for doing this.

It was stated to do either Slash or Gen. I will be doing this as Gen.

Also mentioned was that it would be nice to see the inseparables going to teach the recruits a lesson once they're sure d'Artagnan's on the mend. Only they’re stopped just before they can begin to lash them or kick the shit out of them by d'Artagnan, who reminds them that while they acted in haste and in mistake they were trying to help those they saw as friends just as the inseparables are about to do. He then asks that there be no more violence between brothers-in-arms since they are Musketeers not Red Guards.

So this is taking place at the end of season 1 right after Musketeers Don’t Die Easily.

I kept Backlash for the title as it's very appropriate for the prompt. Now onto the story...

++++

_Shortly after letting Milady go_

_Early afternoon, Garrison – Captain Treville’s office_

"Well done, gents." Having broken out a bottle of wine to share with his men, Treville filled their glasses full. "Tis a fine vintage gifted to me from the king himself." Taking in his relatively unscathed soldiers he was pleased with how things turned out. Well perhaps not totally pleased, as Treville was disappointed that Queen Anne let Cardinal Richelieu keep his head by not informing King Louis of what had transpired. Then the surprising news that Athos let Milady go with just a warning had unsettled his nerves as well. Still, all in all, the queen lived, Richelieu knew he'd have close eyes on him should he pull a stunt like this one again, and his best men hardly had a scratch on them. Er, well, except for d'Artagnan that is. So Treville would take what he could get. Enjoying his drink he couldn't help but notice d'Artagnan wincing and carefully holding his left side. The _side_ that Athos had recently injured in a reckless ruse to get Milady to trust the young Gascon. "Lad, are you well?"

Wishing the captain hadn't singled him out, d'Artagnan sidestepped away from Aramis' seeking hands. "Let be!" he hissed at his friend. "I've only aggravated it."

"Are you sure?" Worried blue eyes latched onto d'Artagnan's. Ever since he blew that shot, Athos had been eaten up with guilt.

"I'm fine, Athos, really." When Porthos slung an arm across d'Artagnan's slim shoulders, he let the larger man gently pull him in close for a hug.

"Kid's tough, Captin'." Ruffling the whelp's long hair, Porthos winked at the boy.

"Humor me, d'Artagnan." Aramis knew what a close thing it had been when Athos shot their youngest in the side and not the arm as had been discussed. "You'll come back to my apartments to let me check your injury." Holding his hand up to forestall their pup's objections, Aramis gave the lad his most charming smile. "Tis not up for debate."

"Give in gracefully, child." Whispering in his protégé's ear Athos noted d'Artagnan avoided eye contact with him. "It will also make me feel better. Otherwise I will worry upon it becoming infected."

"You do remember I told all of you that Milady had a physician tend me," d'Artagnan huffed, rolling his eyes. But upon seeing nothing would sway Athos, nor Aramis, he gave in. Dipping his head, d'Artagnan peeked out through his bangs at his mentor. "If it would ease your mind, Athos, I will go with Aramis."

Folding his arms, Aramis pouted. "You'll do it for _Athos_ but not because I asked _nicely_?"

"Face it, Mis," Porthos chuckled, "you're losing your touch."

A sly look came and went so quickly on Aramis' face that most missed it. "Not where it really matters, mon ami."

"Listen up." Treville gained their attention again. "I'm giving all of you the week off to do as you wish." Looking over at the inseparables he shook a finger at them. "That means I don't want to see any of you in the Garrison for any reason."

"I've no problem with that." Cracking his knuckles, Porthos grinned. "Plenty of card games I can lose myself in."

"Did you say lose your _money_ in?" Dancing out of the way from the large hand swatting at him, d'Artagnan laughed.

"There's a certain beautiful lady I've woefully neglected of late. I'm sure she has been pining away from my lack of attention." Following that statement up with a wink, encompassing them all, Aramis caught sight of d'Artagnan shaking his head at him. "And what was wrong with what I said, may I ask?"

"I've never seen anyone go through women the way you do." Amused at the marksman's nonchalant attitude, d'Artagnan glanced at Athos. The latter had remained awfully silent. "What will you do with your free time?"

"For once I do not want to lose myself in a bottle," Athos freely admitted. "There have been several novels I've been wanting to read but have not had sufficient time to do so."

"What of you, d'Artagnan?" Noting surprise register on the Gascon's face, Treville gathered his youngest Musketeer hadn't given the matter any thought for himself. "And before you answer that I know I said I didn't want to see you in the Garrison but your barracks are here so I'll turn a blind eye unless I catch you tending to the horses." Noting a blush rise on the lad's cheeks, Treville knew he had hit the nail on the head. "Lazare and Noel have them well in hand when you're not around."

"You know me so well, Captain," d'Artagnan huffed. "As to what I'll do with my free time I'm still not sure. Perhaps I'll explore parts of the city I haven't yet seen since I haven't had much free time lately to do so."

"Whelp, if my luck holds I'll treat ya ta a night on the town."

"I'll hold you to that, Porthos." Though d'Artagnan knew once his large friend lost himself to the cards he would not see him for days on end. Observing Aramis laughing into Athos' shoulder, d'Artagnan wondered what he had missed. "Something amuses you, Aramis?"

"Last time Porthos took us out for a night on the town," Aramis wiped tears from his eyes, "we all woke up the next day in an alley not remembering how we got there."

"And minus any money we had on our persons," Athos added deadpanned, though his lips were twitching.

"I'll risk it." Flashing a bright smile at everyone, d'Artagnan was the first to leave.

"D'Artagnan!" Athos called out. "You are welcome to come seek me out at anytime if you find yourself at loose ends."

He knew the taciturn man normally kept to himself when given time off, so d'Artagnan held the invitation close to his heart knowing his mentor had truly meant it. "Merci, Athos." Feeling all was well in his world, d'Artagnan stepped back outside.

++++

Watching the Gascon leave Captain Treville's office a group of recruits, who had yet to earn their own commissions, wanted nothing more than to teach d'Artagnan a harsh lesson.

"We're all older than him, been here just as long and yet d'Artagnan gained his commission before us," Benoit bitterly complained.

"He doesn't even carry noble blood as we all do." Sharing aggrieved looks with his brothers, Etienne had an idea.

Bumping shoulders with Julien, Theophile started to get excited. He had a feeling that Etienne was about to come up with a way they could pay d'Artagnan back for betraying the inseparables and Captain Treville by siding with Cardinal Richelieu, along with that woman known as Milady de Winter.

Also seeing a dark light enter Etienne's eyes, Alphonse chuckled. "Tell us it will prove to the captain that we are all worthy to become Musketeers?"

Leaving Alphonse' question unanswered, Etienne motioned to them all. "Come." With his friends following behind him, they trailed after the young Gascon.

++++

Hindsight is twenty twenty so they say. That being said it would have worked out better for d'Artagnan if he had gone straight to his barracks instead of the Garrison stables to check on Zad. Unfortunately he never made it that far when a painful blow to the back of his head laid d'Artagnan flat out.

++++

_A few hours out of the city - an old abandoned estate_

Groggily shaking his head, d'Artagnan woke up to find his arms were above his head. He was tied with rope which had been secured to a rung in the ceiling. Feet barely touching the floor, d'Artagnan slowly twisted his head from side to side. Having no idea where he was or how much time had passed, he knew no one would be missing him anytime soon. Especially since Captain Treville had just given them all a week's leave.

"Ah! So the great d'Artagnan finally awakens!" Stepping out of the shadows, Etienne planted himself in front of the boy.

At first d'Artagnan didn't recognize the stranger. Then it dawned on him that he had seen the man among the other recruits serving under the captain. Because of his close association with the inseparables, and their many assignments together, d'Artagnan hadn't had much opportunity to meet all of the recruits as yet.

When his brain began functioning fully again, the other man's name finally came to d'Artagnan. He believed it was Etienne. But why he was doing this to him was a mystery. "Have I done something in the past to offend you that you are treating me thus?"

"You're really something. You know that, d'Artagnan?" Punching the youngster in the face Etienne’s signet ring left a jagged cut on the boy’s right cheek.

"Want to know why, boy?" Julien spat out in disgust and then he too slugged the young Gascon in the face. "Because you're a traitor to the crown!"

"Yeah," Alphonse readily agreed. "Siding with that whore who worked for Cardinal Richelieu. Everyone knows what the cardinal's really like," he sneered.

"Except our king." Theophile added drolly with a roll of his eyes.

"The inseparables want nothing more to do with you and neither do we," announced Benoit.

Ah merde! He had thought that Captain Treville by now had spread the word to the entire regiment that their plan had been a ruse. Apparently not everyone got the message. Now it looked like d'Artagnan was going to pay for crimes he never committed.

"Why the captain hasn't yet seen fit to kick your sorry ass out of the Musketeers astounds us." Walking over to the fireplace Etienne stoked the fire that was slowly coming to life.

Knowing that it wasn't that cold outside, d'Artagnan wondered at the need of a fire to begin with. There wasn't even a chill inside this house. With his back turned away from the fireplace, he couldn't tell what Etienne was up to. "There's a good explanation for what I did." Trying to defend himself, d'Artagnan continued on. "I was working undercover."

"Again?" Slapping d'Artagnan hard across his face, Julien sneered into it. "There's only so many times everyone's going to buy that story."

Thinking upon that remark, d'Artagnan grimaced figuring the man referred to the Vadim fiasco. Captain Treville had made sure all the Musketeers had understood what was going on after everything had wrapped up, ending with Vadim dying by d'Artagnan's hand. "Go ask the captain. He'll tell you the truth." He had a feeling his plea had fallen on deaf ears.

"And risk having Treville yell at us for impertinence by questioning him." Shaking his head Benoit took his turn slapping the boy's face. "No one except the inseparables dare to step on the captain's toes."

“Captain Treville will send men out looking for me if I do not return.” His cheek felt like it was on fire from when Etienne’s ring cut it. After his brave words d’Artagnan remembered that the captain didn’t want to see him in the Garrison at all and therefore wouldn’t think it odd upon not seeing him around.

“We heard that the inseparables had been given the week off.” Nodding his head at Benoit who was closest to the fireplace, Etienne smirked. “Not that they’d want to seek you out anyway.”

Inwardly groaning upon hearing that these men knew of Captain Treville’s orders, d’Artagnan realized his bluff wouldn’t work. He prayed that at least one of the inseparables would begin to worry upon not seeing him. Especially Athos who had requested his company. Even Porthos to a lesser degree, since his brother said he’d treat d’Artagnan to dinner if he hit it lucky.

“Treville won’t bother with you now anyway.” Landing another hard blow, this time to d’Artagnan’s unprotected stomach, Julien grinned. “He’s probably writing up your discharge papers as we speak.”

“And no one will find you here either,” Alphonse said. “This place has been long since forgotten by a noble family who have no need of it anymore.” Waving a hand at the inside of the house he blew on a dust covered table to emphasize his point. “Hence its decrepit state.”

For a few short minutes they left the youngster alone. Then when the brief respite was over they began to use d'Artagnan as a punching bag, taking turns pummeling the boy's body. There wasn't a spot they left untouched, and by the time they were done with him the Gascon was covered in bloody cuts and marred with deep bruises.

Breaking away from the group, Benoit walked over to the fireplace, staying there for several minutes. Then over his shoulder he said, “Tis ready, Etienne.” Handing it off to his brother, Benoit was going to enjoy this part.

Barely able to open his right eye, and with his left swollen shut, d'Artagnan's blurry vision wavered in and out. What was ready? Concerned upon the other man's words, d’Artagnan’s brows drew together. Trying to turn his head around proved futile and the strain on the muscles in d’Artagnan’s arms were taking an obvious toll on him, among other things he wished he could forget. Thinking upon whatever more they were going to do to him, he wanted it to be quickly over. But when he heard a hissing sound coming from behind him it was then d’Artagnan became truly afraid for his life.

When he noted Etienne grab something from another, d’Artagnan’s heart nearly stopped beating when he saw what it was. “ _THE CAPTAIN... MY BROTHERS... WON'T STAND FOR THIS!_ " he shouted, struggling to free himself to no avail. _“THINK UPON WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO DO!"_

Holding the hot branding iron in his hand Etienne slowly approached the young Gascon, relishing the fear that the boy couldn’t hide. “You see, d’Artagnan,” he planted himself directly in the Gascon's line of sight, “you’re nothing but a traitor and all of Paris deserves to know that as well.”

" _MON DIEU! I'M NOT A TRAITOR!_ " d'Artagnan yelled at the man, for all the good it did him.

“Oh we understand very well what you are, _TRAITOR!”_ roared Etienne. Brandishing the iron in a circle, teasing d’Artagnan with where he would place it he began chuckling. “Where shall I put it eh? Perhaps that pretty face of yours, mmmmm,” he hummed. Nearly touching the youth’s bruised cheek, Etienne pulled the branding iron away at the last second. 

Ripping open the youngster’s shirt, Alphonse pointed to the bandages wrapped around d’Artagnan’s left side where the Gascon had sustained his latest injury.

Coarse laughter then began to fill the room.

“Of course we all had heard about Athos shooting you.” Removing the bandages, Julien uncovered the puckered flesh. “Tis a shame that Athos was so drunk at the time that he couldn’t do the job properly and saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

Indicating an area slightly above the fresh wound, Theophile snickered. “There I think.”

“Excellent!” Etienne crowed. “This will make your pain all the greater as I can see the skin there still aflame.”

“This is going to hurt us more than it will you, d’Artagnan.” Chuckling at the glare the boy gave him, Benoit patted the Gascon’s cheek in mock sympathy.

He knew the pain would be overwhelming and d’Artagnan didn’t want to give any of them the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But coming from a farming community he knew what was in store for him and wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold himself back. Bracing himself, d’Artagnan watched as the red hot iron drew ever closer. When it seared his skin the stench of burning flesh nauseated him, while his screams echoed within the house. Hearing his voice crying out in anguish, that seemed to go on and on, d’Artagnan blessedly passed out.

Even a few of the other men in the room became affected upon listening to the Gascon’s suffering.

Belatedly finding he had a conscience after all, Theophile was the first to speak up. “Perhaps we went too far. Maybe we should have just beaten him bloody and left it at that.”

“Non.” Throwing the still smoking iron into the dying embers of the fireplace, Etienne shot an irritated look at Theophile. “D’Artagnan deserved to be branded as a traitor.” Staring at the symbol he had left on the red, blistering skin, Etienne's eyes darkened. "Now everyone who sees that mark will know d'Artagnan for what he truly is."

" _T_ for _treason_ ," Julien snorted. "Fitting if you ask me. "Glancing at Etienne, he wondered what they'd do next.

As if he had read Julien's mind, Etienne gathered up his doublet. "What say you, lads, to throwing the traitor at Captain Treville's feet and reap the accolades that should be ours for dealing out justice in the king's name."

++++

_Late afternoon - Garrison Courtyard_

Busy inspecting the armory Captain Treville was inside when Rene rushed in wearing a look of horror on his face. "Mon Dieu! What has happened?" When the soldier hesitated to respond, Treville feared something terrible had befallen the young monarchs.

"Tis d'Artagnan, sir!"

Something other than the young Gascon going against Treville's orders to stay away from the Garrison put that look on Rene's face. Racing out of the armory, he followed behind the Musketeer. What he saw next made Treville sick to his stomach.

Limply hanging between two of his recruits he noted the damage that had been inflicted upon the unconscious boy's body. The lad's shirt was opened clear to the waist and Treville was then able to see the wound where Athos had accidentally shot d'Artagnan. But it was the faint odor of burnt flesh, that assailed his nostrils, which made Treville look more closely. Pushing the torn shirt aside, he sucked in a breath. Gagging right now wouldn't look very captain-like in front of his men but that's what he dearly felt like doing.

Glancing from Etienne and Julien's smug faces, Treville couldn't understand their expressions. This was d'Artagnan who was one of them. Beyond hurt and these men appeared pleased about it. Something wasn't right here. "Where did you find him? Who would dare do something like this to the lad?"

Instantly their expressions changed to one of extreme unease as Etienne, Julien and the others all looked at one another in surprise. Clearly this wasn't the reaction they had expected to get from their commander.

"Sir," Etienne stepped forward, "d'Artagnan betrayed you and the inseparables with Cardinal Richelieu and Milady de Winter. We only thought to teach him a valuable lesson knowing that you were going to take back his commission after what he did."

Grabbing his head, Treville moaned pulling at his hair. Then he roared out his anger at the stupidity of these men. " _YOU IMBECILES!_ D'Artagnan has more courage than the lot of you put together!" On his knees now he cradled the youngster's face in both of his hands. "The lad was working undercover as were the inseparables to foil the cardinal's devious plot."

Glancing up at the thoroughly cowed group of recruits Treville shouted for Rene and Victor to help get d'Artagnan up to the infirmary. "As for the rest of you!" He glowered first at Etienne then Julien, Alphonse, Benoit and Theophile in turn. "You are all under arrest! God help you when Athos, Porthos and Aramis are told what you have done!" Signaling Pierre, Caron and Giles to come over, Treville gave them their orders. "Escort them to the Bastille until I can think what to do with them." Now... now Treville had to inform the inseparables what had happened to their pup.


	2. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at the bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day and time, late afternoon - The Wren_

Not finding Porthos at his apartments, Treville made a few inquiries. Which is how he came to be at The Wren. It really shouldn't have come to any surprise, since earlier Porthos had told him how he would be spending his free time. Stepping into the noisy tavern it didn't take Treville long to spot Porthos amidst the patrons and gamblers spending their hard earned coin. His soldier's loud, boisterous laughter made it easy for Treville to pinpoint which table the man was sitting at.

Feeling a hand settle on his left shoulder, Porthos' eyes reluctantly lifted, from a possible winning spread, to catch the solemn gaze of the officer. "Captin'," he acknowledged with a slight dip of his head. "Care to pull up a chair and join us?"

"Porthos." Squeezing the huge shoulder, Treville delivered his grave message. "D'Artagnan's been injured."

Hearing the words _d'Artagnan_ and _injured_ in the same breath was one thing that had always guaranteed to freeze Porthos' heart. Swearing he threw down his cards, gathered up his winnings and grabbed his chapeau from the table. It wasn't until they were clear of The Wren that Treville filled him in.

++++

Finding Aramis posed a bit more of a challenge for Treville, as Porthos gave him a list of prospective ladies their legendary Lothario could possibly be wooing. It was on Treville's third attempt that he struck it right. Knocking on Madame de la Guesle's door an attractive woman, possibly in her early thirties, opened it. Quickly informing her of his need for the marksman, he noted her eyes flash with temper. No doubt she was taken aback that Aramis' captain should appear on her doorstep. Hopefully her husband was far far away or things could turn out nasty for all concerned. Damn Aramis for tempting fates in the first place!

When a disheveled Aramis made his appearance, Treville took in the state of the man's attire, or rather lack thereof, as the case may be. "I'm sorry to interrupt your leisure activities, Aramis, but something's happened to d'Artagnan."

Before he had a chance to even get a word out, Aramis was pelted with his doublet and weapon's belt. Turning to stare at Yvette's stormy face, Aramis couldn't even find the words to apologize.

"Next time," Yvette snarled, her pretty face set in a hard mask, "if there is a next time. Make sure you really are off duty before you come calling."

As all three men left her premises, Porthos nudged his brother in the side. "She's got a temper that one."

"You don't know the half of it," Aramis muttered.

++++

So it was that Treville arrived at Athos' apartments, flanked by Porthos and Aramis. He saved his lieutenant for last, knowing he would need the muscle of his other two soldiers to hold Athos back from going off half-cocked. Though he had miscalculated slightly in thinking Aramis and Porthos would have cooler heads. It took him a deuce of a time calming both men down enough that they'd see reason. Knocking upon the door Treville's grip crushed his chapeau that he held in his hands.

When Athos discovered who it was on the other side of his door, somehow he instinctively knew it concerned the young Gascon. " _D'Artagnan_?"

"In the infirmary." Observing all the color leech from Athos' face, Treville knew it would be difficult for him to explain how their collective plan had resulted in a backlash against their youngest.

++++

_Infirmary_

Wondering if Captain Treville had managed to round up the inseparables Deveraux wasn't in the least surprised when an hour later they all came in together. Nodding to them his eyes connected first with the captain's. "The initial injury to d'Artagnan's left side had barely begun to heal," Deveraux ran a hand down the back of his neck, "when they applied the _brand_. Nearly choking on that last word, he noted the obvious disgust and fury reflected on each of the other men's faces. "They placed it just above the lad's wound."

Catching Aramis' eye, Porthos saw his brother's face turn white.

" _Infection_." Aramis whispered as if saying the word louder would make it come true. With a desperate look toward the doctor, he prayed it wouldn't happen to their pup.

"The previous wound was still slightly inflamed but it had been tended to by a competent physician and at the time was under control." Having later examined the injury for himself, Devereaux had proclaimed the young Gascon extremely lucky that providence had been smiling upon him. "When the hot iron was applied right above it," his lips tightened thinking upon the pain the child had undergone, "infection set in the brand almost instantaneously traveling its way down into d'Artagnan's still fresh wound."

Having already been sickened by the deplorable state their youngest was in, Treville's previous words had tried to prepare his men for what they would see. Upon hearing what Devereaux had to say the significance of what they learned washed over them all, knocking them sideways.

"Mon Dieu!" Being the first of them to draw closer to the bed, Athos noted the damage done to his protégé. There wasn't an inch of olive skin not marred with dark bruising. The child's face looked like someone had used it as a punching bag. Left eye completely swollen shut with d'Artagnan's right being a close second. Clenching his right fist tightly, Athos wanted badly to return the favor done to the boy. Right now d'Artagnan was tossing and turning restlessly in the bed. Sweat covered his face and chest from the infection burning in the youngster's body. Helplessly staring into Devereaux's compassionate face, Athos held out his hands. "What can we do?"

"I'm going to borrow Aramis for a time." With a quick glance at the marksman, Devereaux smiled slightly at the jerky nod of acceptance he got from the normally charismatic man.

"Didn't infection take hold awfully quick-like?" Not being able to do anything for the whelp didn't sit right with Porthos. Only wanting to crush those damn recruits in his bare hands would give him satisfaction for the harm they dealt the kid.

"Technically d'Artagnan's suffering from a third degree burn." Pointing to the exposed area, Devereaux's features hardened. "I believe the branding iron used was too hot and burned for too long, cutting deep into the lad's skin." Wiping down the boy's sweat-soaked chest he found himself gently moved off to the side, relinquishing his towel to Athos.

Standing beside the captain now, Devereaux added, "You can see how the skin's already swollen around d'Artagnan's injury where he was shot."

"We're going to have to debride both injuries." Removing his doublet and weapon's belt, Aramis rolled up his shirt sleeves and set about getting out the supplies that would be needed.

Having seen his fair share of Aramis' debriding wounds in the field, Porthos didn't relish watching him remove dead tissue from the whelp's body. There had to be something else useful he could be doing except standing here like a lump on a log.

Removing the wet towel from Athos' fingers, Aramis bent to whisper something in his brother's ear.

Abruptly brushing past both the doctor and Treville, Athos grabbed Porthos by the arm. "Come. We're leaving."

Not needing to be asked twice Porthos was about to follow his friend, before Captain Treville ordered them to stop, when he heard the kid's weak voice calling out to them.

Having been given a draught to sedate him, d'Artagnan had fought through it for the sake of his brothers. He had felt their presence fill the room, even before he had attempted to crack his semi-swollen right eye open. Having heard the whispered words passed between Aramis and Athos, d'Artagnan needed to talk to them before he succumbed to the sedative's full effects.

"Porthos... Athos... don't do... it."

Hearing Aramis swear softly, trying to shush him, d'Artagnan ignored his brother. "We are _better_... than them," he struggled to get out. "Athos... Porthos," and staring into the marksman's guilt-ridden dark eyes d'Artagnan said, "Aramis... you're all _better_ than... them." Noting Aramis' eyes fill with tears, he reminded them of the Musketeer motto. " _All for... one and one... for all... united we stand... divided we... fall_."

"Save your strength, child." Kneeling by the pup's bedside, Athos gently carded his fingers through the young Gascon's hair. Knowing it soothed the lad as much as it helped ground Athos from his dark thoughts.

"Promise me," d'Artagnan begged wearily. The draught was beginning to overpower his will to remain awake.

"They deserve the same treatment," Porthos growled. "If not worse."

"Etienne and...  and the others," his voice began to slur as sleep was trying to claim him, "thought I had... turned on... on all of... you." Trying to keep his heavy lids open d'Artagnan, through blurry eyes, tried to focus on Athos' grim features.

Watching their youngest' body finally give up its struggles and close his eyes, Athos and Porthos held a silent exchange with Aramis. The latter shrugged one shoulder, as if to say he was leaving it up to them to decide the better course of action.

"I'm going to pretend I don't know what d'Artagnan was warning you _not_ to attempt." Blue eyes narrowed on his men. "But the lad's words rang true, nevertheless."

"Don't mean we still can't rough 'em up some." Speaking out of the side of his mouth, low enough for only Athos' ears, Porthos pasted an innocent expression on his face so the captain wouldn't have cause to reprimand them for something they haven't even done yet. A grunt in response was the only sound Porthos heard come from his eldest brother.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Teville couldn't believe he was going to say this. "If by some chance those recruits look the worse for wear when I next pay them a visit," throwing deadly looks both at Porthos and Athos, Treville briefly closed his eyes against their expectant faces, "I'll turn a blind eye this one time only." Facing away from them he heard the click of the door quietly shutting closed behind him.

"Was that wise?' Devereaux murmured to the captain.

"This way they have permission," Treville winced at his words, "of a sort to carry out what they perceive as justice for the harm caused to our Gascon."

"Mmmmm," he chuckled quietly. Glad that he wasn't the man in charge of the inseparables, Devereaux went to assist Aramis as they began to debride the boy's injuries.

++++

_Two days later - late morning, Captain Treville's office_

"I guess I should be lucky that you took d'Artagnan's words to heart and not killed them," Treville muttered, staring hard at Porthos and Athos who stood silently in front of his desk. "But I lost count of the numerous broken bones between all five when I went to check on them early this morn." He had deliberately waited until a few days had gone past before visiting the Bastille. Treville had whistled through his teeth at the damage wrought by only two Musketeers. Pretending he was furious, Treville had questioned the guards on duty. All of the men there had suddenly developed a convenient loss of memory and couldn't say how those recruits had come to look like they had been attacked by an entire regiment. When he left the Bastille, Treville had to admit to himself that those men had deserved it no matter how misguided their thinking had been. Feeling that they had already been punished enough, the only thing left to do was to kick them out of the Garrison. Sending them back home, to their noble families, with their tails stuck between their legs was fitting justice.

Catching Porthos beginning to grin, Treville glowered at him noting the amusement instantly wipe clean. "I hope you both feel better now?"

"Merci," Athos drawled pleasantly, "for your concern on our health, Captain."

Very smart Treville thought, as Athos neatly sidestepped the real issue. "Go get out of my office while you both still have your commissions and check on how d'Artagnan fares."

"With pleasure." Turning smartly on his heels Athos happily complied, walking out the door followed closely by his equally pleased friend.

++++

_Infirmary_

"How's the whelp doin', Mis?"

"After I helped the doctor remove the unhealthy tissue we made sure to clean out any dirt and debris the branding iron may have brought along with it."

"D'Artagnan's fever has dropped considerably since then," Devereaux added. "That is always a good sign. But he'll be feeling quite fatigued for awhile and not have much of an appetite until he begins to properly heal."

"How did the lad pass the night?" Hooking his foot around the bottom of the nearest chair, Athos pulled it over to the bedside and sank down onto it.

"Better than he did the previous eve as his fever was still high." Remembering how worried he had been, Aramis had taken out his rosaries and began to pray. "As you know the lad suffered night sweats and chills off an on. It wasn't until early this morn that he began to show some improvement." His sleep deprived face attested to the fact that Aramis had spent endless hours tending to the boy.

"Initially I had been concerned that the type of burn d'Artagnan was subjected to would lead to a bacterial infection and increase his risk of sepsis." Walking toward the head of the bed, Devereaux checked the lad's temperature once more. "But he's a Gascon like our captain and stubborn into the bargain," he mused out loud hearing chuckles of agreement from the others. "We'll keep a close eye on his wounds so that doesn't happen."

"Shame we can't do anythin' about that mark." Dark eyes rested on the _T_ that was branded on the kid.

"It could take anywhere from six to twelve months for that brand to completely heal." Eyeing the offending mark with distaste, Devereaux wanted to keep the injury uncovered to help speed up the healing process. "Perhaps later something could be done to help disguise it."

"The mark won't bother any of us," Athos stated firmly, his ice blue eyes locked onto the still sleeping form of his protégé.

"It'll be d'Artagnan's badge of honor." Feeling so tired that he could sleep standing up, Aramis gazed hopefully at the empty cot beside the Gascon's bed.

" _Badge?_ "

Hearing the sleepy voice speak up, Athos smiled for the first time since he found out what had happened to the lad. "We've decided that your mark will stand for _Triumphant_."

"Yeah, whelp." Tugging on d'Artagnan's foot, Porthos winked. "You'll wear it well and proudly."

"Ummmm." Licking dry lips, immediately d'Artagnan had three glasses of water thrust in his face. Having been helped to sit up by Athos, he titled his head to the side gazing at them all thoughtfully. Remembering his words to them the night before, d'Artagnan wondered if they were heeded. "Are the others still among the living?"

"If you mean those batards..." Athos' temper started to rise, until Aramis laid a calming hand on his back. Clearing his throat he swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise, thinking upon what the pup had been put through. "Oui," he bit off. And that's all he would say on the matter.

"They're a might more healthier than you are, kid." Knowing the broken limbs they left behind them, Porthos thought they got off easier than d'Artagnan had.

He'd wheedle the information out of his brothers sooner or later. Satisfied that Captain Treville wasn't arresting the inseparables and throwing them into the Bastille, d'Artagnan figured he could put up with a little pain. But when he went to lay back down his injuries made themselves felt, changing his mind. Make that a considerable amount of pain. "Next time one of you have a _brilliant_ idea," d'Artagnan's gaze rested on each of his friends, "make sure I'm out of town." When the others blinked their eyes wide in surprise, he chuckled softly. It was always good to have the last word.

The End

++++

_Note:_

I researched into branding humans and its effects. So everything I wrote in regards to infection and debridement came from that.


End file.
